fixed her eyes full of the tenderest love on Giulio, and a tear stole slowly over her cheek. As still she remained silent, it became necessary to give her a name, and Giulio called her Maredata, which, in Italian, signifies, given by the sea.
From the first moment, the old Count, partial to beauty, had been the declared champion of the silent lady, and he even did not blame the unconcealed passion of Giulio. Nevertheless, he was strangely surprised when once the youth declared, with a fire and vehemence that would admit of no contradiction, that he could no longer exist without the possession of Maredata. The wise Count knew that passion would become more violent by opposition, and, as he hoped that Giulio, charmed by the ties of love, would forget every warlike idea, he did not withhold his consent to their union. The church sanctified their love, and Giulio, in the possession of Maredata, thought himself the happiest mortal. A sweet boy soon increased their mutual felicity. Giulio accustomed himself in time to her silence, and understood so perfectly well her eloquent gestures, that he almost imagined her inaudible language to be the true idiom of love. Maredata had, since her first appearance, always shown a great aversion to the sight of the sea. She covered her eyes, and would rapidly turn away whenever she approached it. The family of the Count thought this to be in consequence of the danger to which she had been exposed in this element, and therefore had assigned for the young couple remote apartments, which looked towards the land-side of the castle. Giulio, on the contrary, felt, since he had found Maredata, an increasing pleasure in swimming through the softly murmuring waves. Once, as he returned from the chace, and prepared to depart again to enjoy a refreshing sea-bath, his sister, Manuela, met him, and with an appearance of great anxiety, drew him into her lonely closet. “My dearest brother,” said she, “I tremble to impart to you a discovery I have made, for it may prove destructive to your happiness, but the fear of seeing you in the snares of some supernatural and malicious being, overcomes all other considerations. Know, then, that about an hour ago I passed Maredata’s apartments, when I heard a tuneful voice singing to the accents of the lute. I entered suddenly, and found Maredata, who, blushing at my sudden appearance, seemed extremely embarrassed, and relapsed immediately into her accustomed silence. “Now,” added Manuela, “what a false heart must her’s be, if she, able to speak, can be silent for years to you, to you, the founder of all her happiness! What can be her aim, but to destroy your body and your soul?”
Giulio, deeply affected, hastened to Maredata, requesting an explanation of this extraordinary event, and conjured her to break her long silence. But Maredata, with tears in her eyes, presented him their child, and seemed by the sweetest caresses to make amends for her disobedience. Her loving husband was soon appeased. He entreated her to accompany him on a walk, and, perhaps without intention, he led her to the sea-coast. When he became aware of his mistake, it was too late to return, for the ocean lay before them, brightened by all the lustre of an Italian moon-light. The effect which the sight of the ele-
